


Art of War

by Bittyab18



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Adult Language, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Battle of the Bands, Bellarke Romance, F/F, F/M, Former Faven, Former Flarke, Inspired by Music, Linctavia - Freeform, Multi, On-Again/Off-Again Clexa, Raven/Clarke Friendship, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, The Rebels - all boy band, musician!Bellamy, musician!Clarke, tonDC - all girl band, wicken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3850810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittyab18/pseuds/Bittyab18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tonDC has won the Los Angeles' Battle of the Bands for the last three years. The 2015 Battle of the Bands season has arrived, and with it, some new competition in the form of The Rebels. Clarke Griffin hates losing, so she decides to go 'undercover' to discover The Rebels' secrets in order to ensure tonDC's victory. What she wasn't expecting was to meet a man like Bellamy Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All Warfare is Based on Deception

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Battle of the Bands AU fic. I don’t know anything about a Battle of the Bands process, so I am taking liberties with it for this fic. This fic idea jumped into my mind after I came across the band We The Kings. The band’s name just screamed Bellamy Blake to me, but because I’m going to be referencing a lot of their music, I decided to not borrow their band name, too. 
> 
> The title of the fic comes from the song by We The Kings, as well as Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. 
> 
> The title of the chapter comes from the first chapter of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. Enjoy.
> 
> The song used in this chapter is "I Feel Alive" by We The Kings.

Clarke Griffin entered the small dive bar in Downtown Los Angeles that was called _Lincoln’s Cave_. She scrunched her nose, looking around at the drab décor and the smell of spilled booze and sweat. For a small, dark place, it was surprisingly packed, which, if the Yelp reviews were to be trusted, were due to the owner’s good looks, the cheap but good booze, the to-die-for bar food, and, more recently, the bar band. This dive bar was the scene that Clarke used to frequent when she was still in college, but she’d since graduated to more upscale locales. She knew how to behave in a setting like this—she could probably drink most of the frat boys and hipsters that were in this place under the table, and she’d started a bar fight in places like this a time or two in her younger days (well, that thought made her feel old. She was barely twenty-five.)—but she was not here to be like the typical dive bar clientele.

No, she wasn’t dressed for that. She shifted her shoulders and pinched at the dress that was digging into her underarms, because the dress was a size too small. She had no idea why she had it—likely because it was in the back of the closet from the graduation party that her mother threw in her honor, and she hadn’t worn it since that night three years before. She was just thankful that it fit as well as it did. She pulled off the slutty, yet preppy sorority girl vibe, since it was tight in the bust with an empire waist that fell loosely down to mid-thigh. It was a pale pink, with the skirt having a hint of a glitter to make it shimmer beneath the light. Well, it would if there was enough lighting, but the bar took the cave in its name seriously, so there was very little lighting. It took everything in her power to stop herself from pulling on her faux-leather jacket and black ankle booties with the spikes on the heel, to feel a little more like herself, but instead, she opted for the white cardigan that she found with the dress, and her favorite pair of gold gladiator sandals.

A huge, heavily tattooed man climbed up on the stage that was set up in the corner of the club, and the music that was coming from the speakers shut down, drenching the bar in silence. Clarke’s eyes traced over the man appreciatively. He was gorgeous and looked like he was pure muscle. If she were being her _real_ self, she’d definitely try to go to bed with him, because he looked like he knew how to use those fingers and hips of his. He appeared to be a man of few words, though, because all he did was grunt into the microphone set up on the stage. “Welcome to the stage, The Rebels.” He then stalked off as the crowd cheered, a deafening roar for the small bar, which left a grimace on her lips.

She watched as five men came on stage, two grabbing guitars, one guy with a pair of goggles sitting on the top of his head went to the drums, a fourth grabbing the bass, and the fifth getting behind a keyboard. She licked her bottom lip. This is why she was here. _The Rebels_. She tested the name of the band on her tongue, whispering under her breath. She made her way a little further into the bar, walking over to the bar, biting her lip as she ordered Sea Breeze from the bartender. She hated herself for ordering the pink, fruity, _girly_ drink. She was usually a straight vodka type of girl, but she needed to play her part. The band finished getting themselves situated on the stage just as the bartender placed the pink glass in front of her. She gave him a tight smile before leaning back against the bar as one of the guitarists—the lead singer, she remembered from their bio—stepped up to the microphone that was front and center on the stage.

“Hey, everybody. Thanks for coming. We’re The Rebels, and this first one is called _I Feel Alive_.” The lead singer said, and Clarke felt the clench of her gut as she took in his appearance. He was gorgeous, a lot more charismatic than the hulking man who introduced them, but smaller in build. He still appeared to be muscular, but not in that overwhelming, body-builder style of the other guy. She felt her mouth grow parch as he reached up to brush an unruly dark brown (or perhaps black?) curl from his eyes. She took a long pull from the straw in her drink, only wincing slightly at the taste of it.

The band began playing, and the lead singer smirked at the crowd as he started singing the first line.

“ _We’re all alone watching shadows on the ceiling_  
I've gone numb but I can’t forget the feeling  
And I don’t even know if I can close my eyes  
Don’t want to sleep ‘cause I’m wide and awake and dreaming  
Hold me close and catch your breath now  
I promise not to leave this bed yet.”

The song was off to a quiet, steady start, and it was nothing what she was expecting. It seemed a little more acoustic and relaxed than the blurb she’d read about the band before deciding to seek them out, but as he continued singing, the music started to pick up until the chorus began, and the song made her bones buzz in the way that only good music could make her vibrate.  
  
“‘ _Cause I feel alive_  
I feel alive  
Cause I feel alive (Oh oh oh oh oh)  
I feel alive (Oh oh oh oh oh)  
I finally feel alive  
  
“ _I’m lying here whispering the sweetest nothing_  
I feel your heart beating faster than you’re breathing  
And I don’t even know if I can close my eyes  
Don’t want to sleep ‘cause I’m wide awake and dreaming  
Hold me close and catch your breath now  
I promise not to leave this bed yet.”

The second verse also slowed down, and Clarke tried her best to keep her attention off of the lead singer, but instead on the keyboardist, but the lead singer had a magnetism about him that drew in the crowd. His stage presence was amazing, and he seemed to be staring into the souls of every audience member. As the song returned to its faster tempo and higher intensity for the second round of the chorus, she found herself shifting in place, swaying slightly as she sipped from her straw. It was as close to dancing as she was going to allow herself to get.  
  
“‘ _Cause I feel alive_  
I feel alive  
Cause I feel alive (Oh oh oh oh oh)  
I feel alive (Oh oh oh oh oh)  
  
“ _There’s a time and a place for you to say what’s next_  
So tell all of the things you dream but never get  
There’s a time and a place for you to hold your breath  
So tell me all of the things you thought but never said  
  
“‘ _Cause I feel alive_  
I feel alive  
Cause I feel alive (Oh oh oh oh oh)  
I feel alive (Oh oh oh oh oh)  
I finally feel alive  
I finally feel alive  
  
“ _I finally feel alive_.”

The song remained at its faster pace until its ending. When the song ended, there was complete silence for a moment before the crowd erupted into cheers. She sucked the last of her drink from her straw, frowning as she turned back to the bar to order a second. Her hand tightened into a fist as she waited for it to be prepared. She kept her back to the band, staring at the stained and gouged bar top in front of her, and she heard a new song start up, the lead singer announcing its’ name, but she didn’t hear it. She was too busy thinking about her mission. She thought back to earlier in the day, when she formulated her plan.

* * *

 _Clarke stretched out on her stomach across her bed, facing her laptop as she loaded the page of this year’s_ Battle of the Bands _. She smiled at the bolded name of the winner’s from the 2014_ Battle of the Bands _(as well as the winners of 2013 and 2012): tonDC._ Her band _. She’d started the band in her sophomore year of college with her then (but now off, but sometimes on) girlfriend, Lexa, her best friend, Raven, and Lexa’s best friend, Anya. Clarke played the guitar, Lexa played the keyboard, Anya played the drums, and Raven played the bass, and when they played together, it sounded pretty damn good. They called themselves tonDC, because they were all living in Washington D.C. and going to D.C. colleges. Lexa had thought that the name sounded pretty badass, and the other girls had agreed._

_tonDC became a hot band to play parties, on- and off-campus events, and local bars where they got to drink and eat for free after it was over. After two years of hard work and having a pretty awesome following on Facebook and the Twitter pages that Clarke had set up for them, they decided to try and make it as a real rock band. So, they all moved to Los Angeles. Clarke was the wealthiest of them all, and she had a trust fund that she gained access to when she turned twenty-one that was funded by her deceased maternal grandparents and deceased father. She covered most of the rent of the four-bedroom house, with the other girls chipping in on the remainder of the rent and covering all of the other bills. The best part of the house was that it had a finished basement with its own entrance, which the girls used as their rehearsal space._

_tonDC took the_ 2012 Battle of the Bands _by storm, winning and experiencing a boost in their popularity. Local bars, clubs, and event houses hired them to play, allowing them to make enough money to produce a demo album to sell at future shows. Clarke’s artistic talents extended beyond singing and playing guitar, so she designed the album cover for their eponymous album, which was the charred remains of an exit sign for Washington D.C., with only_ ton DC _legible, with_ 10 M LES _beneath. The exit sign was sitting in the brush on the side of what appeared to be a road, with mangled metal in front of it._

 _Due to the steady sales of their album at shows, so Clarke designed t-shirts and tank tops with their album design on the front to sell during the_ 2013 Battle of the Bands _with copies of album. After winning for the second year in a row, tonDC got started on their second album, which they were able to finish in time for the_ 2014 Battle of the Bands _. They named the album_ Tarnished Crown _, which featured a crown lying precariously on the head a blonde (with only the forehead and the messy blonde waves). Instead of a gleaming gold crown, the gold was dingy in appearance, and there appeared to be blood and dirt splattered across the gold and diamonds on the crown. At their third_ Battle of the Bands _, they sold both of their albums and an assortment of shirts featuring the cover art for their albums._

_As she read through the names of this years’ bands, she recognized some bands from previous years and around town, whereas others were unfamiliar to her. She then checked out the comment boards to see which bands she would need to keep an eye out for as competition. Her stomach plummeted when she saw that a number of threads were related to the band called The Rebels and their recent domination of the dive bar scene. Some posters had the audacity to make threads about how the ladies of tonDC should be shaking in their boots, because The Rebels were likely to win this year._

_Clarke immediately went on the defensive. While she could appreciate a bit of good competition, she was worried about the growing fan base of a band that she’d never heard of. She opened a new tab and typed_ The Rebels band Los Angeles _into the search bar at the top. The first link that came up was for a Facebook page for the band. She clicked on it, and she immediately began reading the band’s bio. Apparently, the band was relatively new, having started as a garage band in a not so nice area of Los Angeles, with all five men growing up on the same street. From what she could tell, they only played a small dive bar,_ Lincoln’s Cave _, downtown. She wasn’t sure how they could build that big of a fan base already when they only played one bar and only had a Facebook page and no other media presence. tonDC’s marketing was almost as full-time a job for Clarke as being the lead singer, guitarist, and sole songwriter for most of their songs. tonDC was built to where it was because of her passion._

 _She scrolled through their photos, but all she could see was everyone’s heads bent over their instruments as they played on the stage of what she assumed was_ Lincoln’s Cave _. She saw a few Facebook videos on their feed that fans had tagged them in, and while the videos were poor quality, they were alternative rock in their sound, and they weren’t half-bad. She was terribly curious about how they could be as big as they were for being relatively unknown and new._

 _It was then that she knew that she had to go investigate The Rebels. She began researching the bar that they played at. She also decided that if she was going to guarantee that tonDC won_ Battle of the Bands _for the fourth year in a row (and she was sure that winning four years in a row, producing two albums, and having good merchandise sales at their shows would make them attractive to record labels when they began trying to score a record deal), then she needed to go on the offensive and find out which songs they were going to play at_ Battle of the Bands _and to plan tonDC’s set accordingly. If The Rebels were going soft, but edgy, then tonDC need to be flashy and fierce; if they were going fast, but traditional, then they needed to stand out._

 _Clarke went back to their Facebook page and studied the body language of band members. From the pictures and the comments about the band, she determined that the guitarists and bassist were the types to hump-and-dump and the drummer had a serious girlfriend (there were quite a few pictures of him—the only band member with a clear shot of his face—and her, with her tagging their band page in the posts). The keyboardist, she decided, was her way in. He was dressed a little more conservatively than the others, so she jumped up from her bed to go digging through her closet for something that could attract him. She needed to appear demure, sweet, conservative, the kind of girl the rest of the band would see as a challenge to chew up and spit out, but that the keyboardist would see as a potential romantic paramour. She found the pink frilly dress in the back of her closet, and she decided that it would have to do. She tossed it onto her bed and scanned the Facebook page to find out when their next show at_ Lincoln’s Cave _, and she was relieved to see that it was that evening. With her plan in mind, she began to get ready for the show, which included washing her hair as many times as it took to get all of the temporary purple dye out of her locks. She needed to look as little like her true self as possible to hide her true motives for getting close to The Rebels._

* * *

The bartender placed her second drink in front of Clarke. She took it in her hand and started to make her way to where the audience was crowding the stage. She needed to get into the keyboardist’s line of sight, so she pushed past scantily clad girls, and the boys who were trying to bed them, until she was within a few feet of the stage’s edge. She sipped her drink, sweeping her eyes over all of the band members as they performed until she settled her gaze on the keyboardist. He was cute, Asian, and a little on the shorter side. He wore a blue button up that was untucked over a pair of jeans and sneakers on his feet. His dark hair was perfectly swept over his forehead. He looked so nice, and he was not at all the type of guy that she usually went for.

She tried her best to keep her eyes on him, swinging her hips slightly as she swayed along with the music, sucking on her straw, playing the part of the slightly buzzed fan girl. However, her eyes drifted from the keyboardist to the lead singer. She tried to return her gaze to the keyboardist, but it was in that moment that the lead singer seemed to focus his attention on her. A smirk slipped onto his face as he sang, and she felt trapped under his gaze.

The lead singer was wearing a pair of dark jeans that were snug in all of the right places and a navy blue t-shirt that was tight and hinted at the muscles trapped beneath it. He had a smattering of freckles across his tanned skin, and his eyes were a rich dark brown. He was the type of guy who had a swarm of girls around him at all times, and you could see it in his eyes that he knew that he could get into the panties of just about any girl that he wanted. And, it appeared from the way that his eyes bore into her, almost as if they burning through her to see into her soul, he’d settled for her. If she were any other girl, and she weren’t here for an underhanded reason, she’d be practically stripping naked in the front and center of the crowd and fuck him in the middle of the stage while everyone watched, but this wasn’t a good thing. He was the type to fuck her and move on, and she wouldn’t be able to find out what she came to find out. She watched as his left eyebrow quirked at her, and she swallowed. She was fucked.

Clarke was trapped in the lead singer’s gaze for another two songs before she was able to pull herself out of it and head to the bar to get another drink. She needed a game plan for blowing off the lead singer and still getting into the keyboardist’s good graces. She ordered another Sea Breeze, wrapping her knuckles on the bar top, trying to release her nervous energy so that she could go back to be the bubbly coed she was pretending to be.

“Clarke?” She jumped, looking to her left to find her ex-boyfriend, Finn Collins. Her eyes widened, not only because of the foul memories that came up every time she saw, talked to, or even _thought_ about Finn Collins, but also because he’d used her name. She didn’t expect to see him here, in a dive bar in downtown L.A. He was supposed to be in Virginia, going to grad school, studying philosophy and spouting government conspiracies. She tightened her jaw, turning her surprised look into one of distaste and disgust.

“Fuck off, Finn.” She said quietly, glancing around to make sure that no one was paying attention to her. She had decided that she was going to give her middle name to the keyboardist, since her first name was well-known amongst the _Battle of the Bands_ forums. Clarke Griffin was the badass singer-songwriter-guitarist-cover art designer of tonDC. Tonight, she was Anne Griffin, affectionately called Annie, an art student who likes indie-rock and singing along with the radio.

“Clarke,” she shook her head, holding a hand up at him. She winced, because moments after he called her by her first name, the bartender dropped off her drink with a smile.

“What can I get you, dude?” The bartender asked. He looked between Clarke and Finn. “He bothering you, sweetheart?”

“No,” both of them said at the same time. Clarke said it, because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself by having Finn get thrown out of the bar, even if it would be amusing to see it. “I’ll take a Jack and Coke.” Finn responded, shooting her a confused look as he saw her raise her Sea Breeze to her lips for a sip. She minutely shook her head at him when she saw him open his mouth to ask her what in the hell she was drinking. The second that the bartender disappeared, he stepped closer. “What the hell is going on, Clarke? You look different…not like you. You look like the Clarke you pretend to be when you’re around your mom.”

“Stop calling me that.” She snapped. The bartender came back over and dropped off Finn’s drink. The second the bartender left again to help another customer, she spoke again. “I’m sort of undercover.”

“Undercover?”

“This band…” She said, waving her free hand towards the stage, where the hot lead singer was crooning to the crowd that was hovering by the edge of the stage. Most of them were girls, of course. “They’re good, yeah?” She said casually, taking another sip of her drink. Her eyes were on the lead singer, and she felt Finn staring her down, so she forced herself to look at each member of the band. “The bassist has quick fingers. He’s good. The lead singer is _really_ good. He plays the guitar, has a strong voice, and he has good sex appeal, which he uses to his advantage. He’s good at working the room. Should I go on or do you know where I’m going with this?”

“You’re spying on the band?” He said in a hushed voice, finally understanding what she was doing. She shrugged her shoulders, keeping her eyes on the band. She let her eyes trail back to the lead singer, who was eye-sexing the crowd of girls. Hot Lead Singer Guy looked away from the fangirls in front of the stage to look out over the crowd, and, _shit_ , did he smirk when his eyes landed on her again? “That’s why you’re in this getup?” She jumped slightly when Finn started speaking to her again, and she tore eyes from the singer to look back at her ex.

Clarke was decidedly irritated by Finn’s intrusion into her plan. “Go away, Finn.” She snapped again, squeezing her fist more tightly around her sweating drink.

“Why are you spying on the band?” He wouldn’t let up. When she first met him, she’d been attracted to his good boy with a Devil-may-care attitude, skater boy clothes and long hair, and his charismatic _persistence_ to convince her to go on a date. Now, she found that persistence to be annoying and unattractive.

“The Rebels are playing _Battle of the Bands_ this year, so I’m doing a little recon on them.”

“What? Why do you need to do recon? I mean, they’re good, but your band’s better. At least, that’s what I think.”

“Thanks.” She said curtly, feeling incredibly awkward, considering the last time they’d spoke, she was naked, with a sheet wrapped around her frame, and she was slapping him across the face. His girlfriend, his _real girlfriend_ , had just walked in on Clarke riding him, with her head tossed back. He’d made her a whore. She was his sidepiece at college, but his real Facebook status said that he dated Raven Reyes, not Clarke Griffin. (He’d told her that he didn’t have a Facebook, and he was so well hidden that she never found him, either.) “Call me Annie.” He nodded his head at her, a bemused look on his face.

“Annie…like your middle name?” She narrowed her eyes, not responding to his question. Details like that are for important people within her life to know, not cheating assholes. “Look, I’m not really sure this is the best place for you, you know?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Clarke glared at Finn.

“Well, for one, this neighborhood is shitty, and when people look at girls who are dressed like you, they see easy marks. I’m just worried about you.”

“I can take care of myself, Finn. You know that better than anyone.” She snapped. He blanched, just as she expected him to. She was no longer the frail debutante that was forced to go to society parties by her mother, the girl that Finn met when they were freshman year of college. The two of them had dated for three months, and then Raven had shown up. After Clarke had slapped Finn, Raven had punched him in the face. She’d looked up Clarke a few weeks later, and the two of them hit it off. Literally. Raven had helped her channel her anger and aggression toward Finn (as well as at her mother and the death of her father) through boxing. Suffice to say, she lost her baby fat, gained some muscle (and curves), and gained the ability to throw a few punches (hence the couple of bar fights she’d started in her day). She was a woman now, and a pretty strong woman to boot.

“Cl— _Annie_.” He began, reaching for her, but she stepped away from him, pursing her lips at him.

“It was great running into you, Finn.” She turned her back on him and walked straight into the lead singer’s chest, spilling her Sea Breeze all over the front of him. “Oh, shit! I’m so sorry!” She gasped out, embarrassed.

The lead singer laughed, and it was a deep, scratchy sound that wrapped around her like a wave of warm chocolate. Shit, what the hell is wrong with her? She stepped back, wincing at the wet mark on his chest, but he just shrugged, wiping at the damp fabric of his shirt. “It’s fine.” He looked up and smiled at her. “You can’t even tell. I’m a sweaty mess from being on stage anyway.” His vice was even deeper and gruffer in comparison to his laugh, and she felt the heat pool in her lower abdomen. She bit her bottom lip, looking up at him through her perfectly curled lashes to study his beautiful face up closely. Oh, yeah, she was royally _fucked_. “I’m Bellamy.”

Bellamy held out his hand to Clarke, and her eyes dropped to it. It was large with thick, long fingers that were calloused only in a way that a guitarist who didn’t use a pick could get. She used a pick (she was an artist, so callouses on her fingertips might fuck up her art), and she was so thankful of that fact at the moment, because as she laid her hand in his, he wouldn’t know that she was a musician as he was. Just one more way that she was hiding in plain sight to achieve her mission.

“I’m—” She began, but Finn, of fucking course, had to ruin everything.

“She’s not interested.” He stepped between the two of them. “I’m serious, _Annie_.” He stepped closer to her. “I’m worried about you.”

“The only person you should be worried about is you.” She snapped. “Walk away.”

“You okay…Annie, is it?” Bellamy stepped forward, looking between her and Finn.

“I’m fine. He was just leaving, weren’t you?” She had smiled sweetly at Bellamy, but as she spoke, her eyes had flickered to Finn, and she shot him a look that would have killed him, resuscitated him, and then killed him again if it were possible. Finn tensed his jaw before storming off, leaving her with one final comment about calling her later. Like, she’d answer.

“You look like you could use a drink. Well, _another_.” He waved his hand from the front of his shirt to her nearly empty glass. She nodded her head, her heart practically falling out of her chest when he grinned at her, taking her hand in his. He lifted it to his lips, and she felt a pulse of electricity that buzzed through her body the moment his lips brushed over the back of her hand. As he pulled away, he brushed his lips down and over her knuckles before nuzzling them slightly with the tip of his nose. If it were anyone else, the gesture would be disgusting and weird, but she was terribly turned on by everything this man did (she was a _weak_ , _weak_ woman), so it only made her heart skip a beat in pleasure. “We got interrupted before. Annie, a lovely name for a lovely girl.”

Clarke gave Bellamy a tensed and slightly embarrassed smile. “I didn’t even realize that you, uh, your band finished your set.” She squeaked. Since Finn had interrupted, she didn’t have a chance to formulate a plan on how to blow off the lead singer, and she was out of her element, because every inch of her body was practically screaming to go to bed with him.

“Yeah, it looks like you were a little distracted. Boyfriend troubles, beautiful?” He released her hand once they arrived at the bar. He raised a hand at the bartender, who nodded his head and began preparing the two of them drinks. Another Sea Breeze for her, _joy_ , she noticed out of the corner of her eye. His eyes had never left her face as he flagged down the bartender, and she knew that this was how he got women in his bed. His gaze was intense, settled on her as if she were his sole focus, the only thing he could see, hear, or touch in that moment. She felt herself being sucked into his gaze, just as she had when he was performing on stage, falling under his spell.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said before she could stop herself. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” The smile that slipped onto his face should be illegal. It was so wide that it should have been _unattractive_ , but on him, it _wasn’t_. Goddamn it! Why did he have to be so damn beautiful?

“Perfect.” Bellamy said quietly. “Just perfect.”


	2. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy get to know each other better at his house in Venice, CA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Bellamy doesn’t seem too out of character, but I’m writing him as the big, old puppy that we all know he is on the inside
> 
> Also, this chapter lives up the mature rating. ;P

Clarke stumbled backwards through the front door of the small house in East Venice with Bellamy’s lips pressed to hers. His hands were digging into hips, likely to leave small bruises, but at the moment, she didn’t care. She was too focused on the feeling of her lips brushing against his. He broke the kiss, smirking at the small whimper and pout that slipped onto her face, but he turned his back to shut the door and lock it (and the three deadbolts), while simultaneously kicking off his shoes. When she realized what he was doing, she let the white sweater fall off of her shoulders, dropping to the ground. He was working on the second of the three deadbolts when she dropped her clutch on top of the sweater. She was just about to bend over to take off her sandals, but he turned around, pulling her into his arms once more. His lips, rather than pressing against hers again, found her neck, where he began sucking lightly on the skin, making her hum in pleasure. She cocked her head to the side, letting him have more room to trace his lips along her skin, eyes falling shut. He pulled his face away from her neck, causing her eyes to fly open. She took in his hooded gaze, his lips red and swollen and slightly damp from their kissing and the remnants of her lip gloss. “Do you need anything? Would you like some water? I have soda? Maybe something to eat?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. She shook her head slowly, pulling out of his arms. She bent her leg at the knee, reaching with her hand to find the clasp of her sandal, unhooking as she looked at him. “I’m not thirsty. I’m not hungry. I don’t need to go to the bathroom.” She let the shoe drop from her foot and repeated the process with the other shoe.

“Okay, so would you care for a tour of the place? I mean, I know I’m not from the best area in Venice—as you could probably tell from the three deadbolts, but the neighborhood’s getting better with the changes…” He was rambling, running a hand through his hair. She let the second shoe fall to the floor, and she leveled a small smile on him, because he seemed decidedly way more flustered than she pegged him for. Perhaps all of the talk about his prowess in bed and with women appeared to be fodder by wannabe groupies. But his magnetism on stage screamed sex God, so she wasn’t sure what his weirdness at this moment was really about. She almost forgot for a second _who_ she was pretending to be.

“Sure, I’d love a tour.” She twisted one of her blonde curls around her finger. “Maybe you should start with the bedroom…” He laughed, running a hand down his face. He stepped forward, reaching up to pull the blonde curl from her hand and to wind it around his own. His gaze was settled on his hand as he brushed his thumb across her hair. She was starting to wonder if he had a kinky hair fetish of some kind when he tucked the hair behind her ear and laid his hand on her cheek.

“I’m being weird, right?” She nodded her head a little, teeth trapping her bottom lip again. His eyes immediately went to her mouth. “I’m not normally weird.” He said, sliding his thumb across her skin and using it to pull her lip from her teeth. “Ordinarily, I’d have a girl naked before the door’s shut. Ordinarily, I’d push her against the wall, kissing her as if I’m going to suck all the air from her lungs, my fingers between her legs, swallowing her moans. Ordinarily, I’d make a girl come right here in this entryway before we move further into the house. Some girls I take to the living room and bend them over the back of it while I fuck them from behind. Others I take to the dining room, spread them out and feast on them as if I was a man on Death Row and getting my last meal before I get the needle. Some get taken to kitchen, where I fuck them while they sit on the counter. Others I take to the bathroom, and I fuck them in the shower as the mirrors fog up and there is a haze of steam in the room and our skin turns bright red from the heat of the water; I don't stop until all of the hot water is spent and we’re being drenched in water as cold as ice.” Her breathing steadily increased until she was practically panting, but he used the same calm, quiet voice as he told her all of the things he would ordinarily do with his hookups.

“That sounds lovely…” She let out, eyes on his mouth. His lips quirked, and she raised her hand to the back of his neck, sliding her fingers into the hair curling at the nape of his neck. “I think we should do all of that…” She stepped forward so that her body was flush against his, their mouths mere inches apart.

“You’re different. I don’t know where to take you.” He brushed his lips over hers, and she tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back, keeping it feather-light.

“What kind of girls do you bring to your bed?” He moved his hand down her cheek, brushing the pads of his fingers gently on the skin of her neck. She swallowed as his fingers brushed along her collarbone to her shoulder.

“I don’t bring girls to my bed.” He told her as his hand continued its path down her arm until his fingers tangled with hers. “It’s too intimate. My room is where I write music. It’s where I go to escape from a long day.” She swallowed, because she knew that this was going to happen. It’s why she wanted to go for the keyboardist. He basically just told her that he was a hookup-only kind of guy. Not too many girls did repeat sex-sessions with a guy who wouldn’t take her to bed. No girl wants to fuck in every room of the house only to be kicked out the second the sex is over repeatedly. “When I bring a girl to my bed, she's someone I worship. She's the one that I use my mouth and fingers to study every inch of her body, discovering every spot that makes her hum or moan or shiver or sigh. She's the one that stays the night. The girl that I hold in my arms and wake up to in the morning. She's a girl that means something.”

“And how many girls have meant something?” Clarke whispered. His dark eyes were boring into her much lighter ones in a way that was more intimate than she had every experienced in her life. She felt hot and cold at the same time, and her skin broke out in goosebumps every time his thumb stroked hers, their fingers interlaced and palms pressing together.

“Aside from my mom and my kid sister?” He looked away from her, finally, but instead of relief from the intensity, she felt disappointment and a desire to turn his head back to hers in order to lock gazes once more. “There was only one girl that meant something...but that was a long time ago.” He gave her a pinched smile, one that didn’t meet his eyes. “Etiquette says that I don’t talk about other girls on the first date.” She laughed, leaning her forehead against his, eyes shutting. She squeezed the back of his neck lightly.

She then moved her hand further into his hair, gently running her fingers along his scalp. He hummed softly, squeezing her hand slightly. “So, this is a first date, huh?”

“Well, yeah…I bought you a few drinks, and I offered you a meal…which you vetoed. You sure you’re not hungry? I could make you something to eat. I’m actually a really good chef. I had to be, because I had an irritating kid sister to feed while growing up.” She chuckled again, lifting her forehead from his.

“Stop trying to feed me.” Clarke scrunched her nose. “If I eat, I will be less drunk, and if I’m less drunk, I will realize what a bad idea this is.” She was being honest when she said it, because she was out of her element with Bellamy. She was expecting a hot-as-hell hookup and for them to go their separate ways. With the keyboardist, she’d hoped that he’d be intrigued enough to buy her a couple of drinks, and then maybe they’d kiss a bit. He’d ask her to dinner, and she’d agree. Then, she’d stick around a bit, finding out their set list, figuring out what they were planning to do at Battle of the Bands, and then break things off before the show. It was simple, _easy_.

What she wasn’t expecting was that the hot-as-hell lead singer, who looked like walking sex and who had a lot of hookups, was secretly a big softie who’d make her heart skip a beat. She should end this now, walk away. He frowned when she said that it was a bad idea to be there with him. “Bad idea?”

“It’s just that I, uh, don’t do this kind of stuff.” She said quickly, surprising herself. This was her way out, and here she was, trying to keep it going. “You know…hook up with guys on the first date or have one night stands.” _Annie_ didn’t have one night stands or have sex on the first date. _Clarke_ didn't lie to people; she was always annoyingly blunt and honest.

“No?” She shook her head. “So, what to first dates generally look like for you, Annie?”

“Well, Bellamy, they generally include good music.” She made a fist with her hand and then extended her thumb. “Check. Tasty drinks, even ones that are weirdly pink.” She joked, extending her index finger. “Check.” She extended her middle finger. “Food…which, you’ve offered, but I don’t need.” She smiled. “Check.” She stuck out her ring finger. “A hot guy.” She let her eyes trace over him. “ _Check_.” He laughed, shaking his head at her. “Finally, a fun activity…like dancing or miniature golf or beer pong or something.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Four out of five isn’t too bad…”

Bellamy stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Clarke’s waist, pulling her against his chest. He grabbed her hand and spun her in a circle quickly. She squealed, her head falling back. She gripped his hand tightly, her other arm wrapping around his neck. She scrunched her nose as he slowly rotated them around in the entryway of his home. He started humming softly, a melody that she didn’t recognize, but she let her eyes fall shut. She moved her head to rest against his shoulder, dancing with him as he hummed softly to her. After a while, she lifted her head from his shoulder and guided his head to hers. He stopped humming immediately, returning the kiss, stilling their bodies.

She gripped his shoulders, standing up on her toes to close as much of the distance between them as she could. He rested on hand on her upper back, the other on her hip. After a few moments, she broke the kiss, sucking in some air. “Five out of five…” She whispered.

“Not quite. C’mon.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards what appeared to be the living room.

“Oh, are we doing the bent over the couch thing?” She asked when he released her hand by the couch. He looked at her, both eyebrows raising up high. “What? I said I was game for that…” He laughed, pulling her into a kiss by gripping her cheeks. He chuckled against her mouth, and she returned his laugh, breaking the kiss to roll her eyes at him.

“No, we’re doing another fun activity. How do you feel about old-school N64?” Her eyes widened as he moved away from her to kneel in front of the TV. He opened the media console’s doors, revealing a number of gaming units. He pulled out two controllers, plugging them into the N64 unit. “So, pick your poison.” He pulled a fabric bin out of the bottom shelf of the bookshelf next to the media console and television.

“Do you have _Mario Party_?”

“One through three.” He pulled the three games out of the fabric bin.

“Two.” He nodded his head. “Also, I’m Princess Peach.”

“Obviously, Princess.” He winked at her, putting the cartridge into the unit, hitting the switch to turn it on. “May the best one win.” He said, handing her a controller. She dropped to the floor in front of the television, bouncing up and down as the game began to load.

“I will.” She said, cheekily when he started a new game, allowing them to select their characters. “Wario, really? You’re so going to lose.” She rolled her eyes.

“Bring it on, Princess.”

* * *

 

Thirty minutes into the game, Bellamy had two stars and forty-two coins, and Clarke had no stars and six coins. She groaned when the mini-game that came up was the Skateboard Scamper. “Fuck! I suck at this game!” She groaned her head falling back.

“That’s what you get for choosing Princess Peach, Princess.” She stuck her tongue out at him, trying her best to concentrate on the game, but Boo the Ghost hit Peach almost immediately, knocking her out of the game.

“Son of a bitch!” She groaned dropping the controller. She watched as he continued to kick ass at the mini-game, and a plan formulated in her mind. She decided that she was going to make him lose.

Clarke moved closer to him, flicking her tongue along the shell of Bellamy’s ear. He groaned, and she smiled moving her mouth to his neck. She bit down on the skin just above his collarbone, in the space where his shoulder met his neck. She began sucking at his skin, and she heard him mutter, “fuck it,” before he dropped the controller and turn to pull her into his lap. They heard Wario cry out as Boo captured him, but they were too busy making out for either one of them to really care. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he jerked his hips up, making her hum against his lips. She ground against his lap, hands gripping his hair.

He broke the kiss to suck in some air. She stared down at him from her perch in his lap. She pulled her hands from his hair to reach for the zipper on the right side of the dress. She pulled it down, letting the material of the dress fall to where it was bunched at her waist. She was now topless in his lap, and his eyes traced over her face for a moment before they settled on her chest. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He muttered, his hand moving from where they were lost in the gathered material of her dress to rest on her sides, just above her hip bones (and her bunched dress). She shivered at the contact of his hands against her skin, her eyelids drooping. She kept her eyes open, though, and on him. He gently brushed his hands up her sides, mapping the curves of her body.

She wasn’t slender. She was curvy; she had a bit of a fuller figure, with a large chest and a rounded ass. She wasn’t some stick-like model, but the gentle path of his hands revealed that he didn’t seem to mind. He stopped his hands when they were lying on her ribcage, just below her breasts. Her nipples hardened when he sat up more completely, bringing his face closer to her chest. He blew on them gently, making her nipples tighten again. He tore his eyes from her breasts to look up at her. It was then that his thumbs shifted, rubbing the underside of her breasts, making her hum and grind against his lap. “Shit, Annie.” He pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her collarbone. She was momentarily thrown by the use of her middle name. For a second, she forgot who she was pretending to be. Thankfully, he was busy with pressing his face to the curve of her neck as he sucked open mouth kisses along her collarbone, so he didn’t see her confusion over his calling her _Annie_.

“I want you to fuck me,” she gasped out, head falling back as his lips moved down her chest. He was leaving gentle, brushing kisses on her skin until he reached her left nipple, which he pulled into his mouth momentarily before he released it.

“I don’t know, Princess. I don’t think that’s appropriate first date material.” He said against her nipple before he gently scraped his teeth along the skin just to the right of it, making her shiver.

“Fuck appropriate first date etiquette. I need you inside of me _now_.” She cupped the back of his head to her chest as he continued to nibble and suck at the skin of her breasts.

“Someone knows what they want.” He responded, lifting his head from where he was sucking at the underside of her right nipple.

“Yes, I do.” She muttered, slipping her hand between them. Before he even realized what was happening, she had his belt undone, his pants opened, and her hand in his boxers, gripping his dick in her hand. He jerked against her, moaning against her lips as he closed the distance between them.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned against her lips as she stroked his rapidly hardening erection. He pulled back from the kiss to grab at her bunched dress. He started pulling it up, and she had to stop stroking him in order to raise her hands over her head to let him pull the dress off of her completely, leaving her in a pair of white lace boyshort panties. He was still fully clothed, aside from his undone pants and the swell of his erection in his boxers, but she was completely naked, except for her underwear.

“You’re overdressed.” Clarke told him with a laugh, reaching for his shirt. Bellamy let her pull the shirt over her his head. When his shirt was off, he gathered her in his arms and flipped them, making her squeal. She was on the floor, leaning back against his couch, and he was kneeling on either side of her legs. “Condom?” She asked, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull his mouth to hers. They kissed while he fumbled with his wallet, which was in his back pocket. He broke the kiss to pull a condom from his wallet, which he tossed to the side.

She reached for the condom, but he yanked his arm out of her reach, shaking his head. She pouted, bottom lip jutting out, and he smirked at her. “Wait a second, would ya? I’m not fucking you on the scratchy carpet of my living room when we have a perfectly good couch right there. I’m also not fucking you to the soundtrack of _Mario Party 2_.” She laughed at him as he moved away from her to turn off the game. He then stood up, holding a hand out to her. She took his hand in hers, and he pulled up against his body. She shivered when her breasts hit the hard planes of his chest. He kissed her for a moment, sucking on her bottom lip and making her sigh into the kiss. She rested her hands on his hips before she pushed at his jeans, letting them fall over hips and settle halfway down his thighs. “So impatient…” He muttered, breaking the kiss to push his pants off completely.

“I prefer to look at myself as a motivated woman who is determined to get off.” He laughed, brushing a kiss on the top of her head as he moved around her. He grabbed a throw blanket off the back of the couch, draping it on the couch.

“My sister would kill me if she spotted a jizz stain on the couch.” He told her, laying back onto the couch.

“You’re sister lives with you?” She asked as he pulled her into his lap. He nodded his head, sitting up enough to begin mouthing her breasts again. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she whimpered when he sucked hard at her right nipple. “I suddenly feel weird about fucking on your couch when she could walk in at any moment.”

“Nah, she’s spends most nights at her boyfriend’s. She basically only lives here in name.” He pulled away from her to give her a pointed look with his eyebrows raised. “Can we stop talking about my sister when I’m about to fuck you? She and I are close, but _not that close_.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“Yes, please…” She lifted herself off of him. She turned away from him, glancing over her shoulder as she slowly pushed her underwear off of her hips and down her legs. She bent over, stepping out of them, tossing them to the side.

“Fuck. I can see how wet you are, and I’ve barely even touched you.” He grabbed her hips, pulling her down into his lap, and she suddenly realized was unclothed. He pulled her back against his chest, spreading both of their legs, with hers hooked on either side of his. She felt the warmth of his erection against her lower back, and she let her head fall back onto his shoulder. “I’m going to touch you now.”

Instead of immediately settling his hand between her legs, Bellamy first placed both of his hands on both of her shoulders, running his fingers down her arms until he found her wrists. He gathered her wrists in his hands, raising their arms up to settle around his neck. “Keep them here.” He whispered against her cheek, and she nodded her head. He then stroked his fingers down the side of her arms, making her squirm. He kept going, down her sides, stopping at her ribcage to cup her breasts in his hands.

“Oh, God…” She sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he kneaded at her breasts. She rotated her hips, feeling the fullness of his erection against her back. From what she could tell, it was average in length, but thick, and she knew that she was going to be a puddle from the foreplay alone. If he was as good at fucking as he was at just holding her boobs and sucking at the skin of her neck, then she was in for a good night.

“I love your breasts.” He whispered in her ear. “I love how pale your skin is in contrast to mine. I love how you have three little moles in a triangle around your belly button.” He moved one of his hands down, away from her breast, running this index finger over the triangle of moles as he spoke of them.

“Mm, you know what I’d love?” She turned her head to rub her nose along his cheek.

“What’s that?”

“For you to _touch_ me.”

“I _am_ touching you.”

“Bellamy, if you don’t finger me right _now_ , I’m taking care of _myself_ and _leaving_.”

“Bossy Princess.” He chuckled, biting down on her earlobe.

“Bellamy,” she whined. Her whine turned into a moan, because his hand slid through her blonde curls at the apex of her thighs before slipping down further.

“Jesus, you’re so wet.” Her eyes squeezed shut as he combed his fingers through her folds, grinding his palm against her clit. She jerked her hips up, but his other arm immediately wrapped around her waist, holding her against him. She started to move her arms, but he clucked his tongue in her ear. “Arms stay where they are.” She whimpered, unable to move due to the heavy weight of his arm across her middle, and she was told not to move her arms. She figured if she did, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but she found that she liked letting him do everything in that moment. Although, she felt the weight of her arousal in her chest, too, and she wanted nothing more than to touch her own breasts, since his hands were otherwise occupied. He slid one finger inside of her, pressing in as deeply as he could before he slipped it out. She hissed when he added a second finger with the first. He flicked his thumb along her clit, and she closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing and the sound of the blood rushing through her ears. “You’re so tight and wet, Princess. Fuck, do you hear how wet you are? I do.” She bit down on her bottom lip, moaning as she focused on the squelching sounds coming from between her legs as his fingers slipped in and out of her.

To keep herself from moving her hands, she tangled her hands into his already messy hair, fisting it as she used what little bit of space his arm allowed to rock her hips. She could feel his dick rubbing between her ass cheeks and against her lower back, and she felt the slight stickiness of his precum against her skin. She moaned, and he bit down on her shoulder. “Fucking hell, Princess. Keep moving like that, and I’m gonna come.”

“I’m so close,” she whispered. She let out a breathy moan when he purposely rubbed his fingers against that spot inside of her that made her see stars. “Fuck, wait, _stop_.” He froze immediately, not removing his fingers.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I just don’t want to come like that.” She broke free from his arms, which had loosened considerably since she asked him to stop. She stood up and turned around, her eyes immediately finding his dick. “ _Fuck_ …” She swallowed, dropping to her knees. She grabbed his dick in her fist, enveloping him in her mouth.

“Shit, Princess.” He jerked up slightly, and she closed her eyes, swallowing as she eased more of him down her throat. His hand slipped into her hair, and she continued to work him in and out of her mouth, laving her tongue along the veins on the underside of his dick. He fisted her blonde curls, adjusting the pace that she fucked him with her mouth, easing her head up and down on his dick a little more quickly. “Just like that, baby,” he moaned, and she opened her eyes to see his head was pressing back along the edge of the couch.

Clarke reached with her other hand, finding Bellamy’s. She interlaced their fingers, and he squeezed her hand tightly in his. His head fell down, and he opened his eyes (just barely), breaths coming in deep pants. His eyes found hers, and he used his hold on her curls to pull her free from him with a loud slurping sound. He pulled her into his lap once more, breasts pressed against his chest, hand still tightly wound in her hair. She moaned against his lips, because his dick rubbed against her center, the tip nudging her clit as she writhed in his lap. “Condom.” She broke the kiss to stare into his eyes. He grabbed the foil packet where he left it at his side, handing it to her rather than to verbally respond to her command for it. She tore the package open, shifting back so that she was kneeling on either side of his hips. She slid the condom onto his dick, fisting him at the base to line him up with her entrance. “Ready?”

“Always,” he pulled her into another kiss, and she slowly sank down onto him. They caught each other’s moans as she settled around him, freezing just after her hips met his. She broke the kiss to lean her forehead against his, eyes clamped shut. “You feel so good, Annie.” She bit her bottom lip, willing herself to not react to him calling her that name. She preferred it when he called her Princess or baby or some other kind of pet name, because then she didn’t feel like she was lying. She could just be _Clarke_ —Clarke who was fucking a super attractive guy.

“You feel good, too.” She whispered, moaning as she used her knees (and her grip on his shoulders) to lift her hips slowly away from his. She stopped when she felt just the tip of him inside of her, dropping down hard against his hips. She opened her eyes, grinning at the bruising force that he gripped her hips and his loud groan. “You like that?” She asked him, repeating the process, slowly lifting her hips away from his until he’d nearly withdrawn from her completely before slamming her hips back down on him.

“More.” He moved his hand up to grip the back of her neck, keeping her head in place a few inches from his. He stared into her eyes as she quickened her pace slightly, increasing the force in which she dropped back down on him. He met her hips with his own thrust, and she bit her bottom lip at the smacking sound of their skin meeting.

“I’m so close.” She swallowed, blinking at him, eyelids dropping.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

“Bellamy,” she whimpered, struggling to keep her eyes open. He released his hold on her neck, dropping his hand to the apex of her thighs. As she slid out, he stroked his thumb along the arousal that was left behind on the condom, using it as lubrication to rub at her clit. “Oh, God!” She let her head fall back, arching her back so that her breasts were near his face. He leaned forward, trapping a nipple in his mouth. The hand on her hip slid up her side, finding her other breast.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck me.” She moved her hips more quickly, with him matching her tempo. She let out a guttural moan as she tumbled over the edge, nails digging into his back from where she was gripping his shoulders.

Clarke’s movements slowed, but she knew that Bellamy hadn’t come yet, so she kept rocking her hips against him. She was losing momentum, though, because she wanted to just enjoy the pulsing of her center around his dick and the shudders wracking her spine. He pulled her into his chest. He stopped thrusting, and somehow lifted her up in his arms, making her cry out in surprise. He flipped her over so that her back was lying against the blanket-covered cushions. He lifted her one leg, sliding it over his shoulder, and then he proceeded to fuck into her with bruising force. She moaned loudly, chanting _yes, yes, yes_ , over and over as he pounded into her, bending her leg slightly and using his hand to support her neck as he pulled her face closer to his. His lips ghosted over hers just barely touching, making it more about the one breathing in the other’s exhales. She felt herself rising towards another orgasm. One of her hands dug into his back, and she scraped her nails down his skin until she was gripping one of his ass cheeks in her hand, squeezing it tightly, making him groan. The other hand slipped between them, fingers finding her clit. It only took three circles of the pads of her index finger and middle finger pressed against her clit before she was falling over the precipice again, her vaginal walls squeezing him as he bucked against her. He followed her over the edge a few thrust later, grinding his hips into hers as he emptied himself into the condom. “Fuck, Princess.”

She laughed as he sat back slightly, making her leg fall down his arm. “Mmm, that was way better than a quick fuck over the back of the couch.” He let out a heavy breath, reaching down to hold onto the condom as he pulled out of her, both of them quietly groaning at the loss of connection. He pulled the condom off carefully, tying it off. “So, is that offer for food still on the table, because that definitely made me work up an appetite?” He laughed, standing up, and she bit her lip as she took in the red lines down the one side of his back. She sat up, reaching out to smack his ass as he bent over to grab his boxers.

He jumped, dropping the condom to the floor with a wet slap, making her giggle (both at his reaction and sound the condom made when it hit the wood flooring). He turned around, giving her a mock glare before he dropped back on top of her, crushing her slightly into the couch as he bit down on the inside of her left breast, making her cry out. He released her breast, laving the sting with his tongue, before he began kissing his way up her chest and neck to her lips. He kissed her hard, and she tangled a hand into his hair, keeping him in place as she opened her mouth to his.

His tongue slipped in, tangling with hers, and they remained like that for a few moments, making out with the fabric of his boxers bunched between them. Finally, he pulled back, sucking in a deep breath before he pressed several light pecks all over her face, leaving her with one final peck on the lips before pulling back. “How does grilled cheese sound?” She laughed, running her hand over the back of his head, scrapping her nails slightly along his scalp.

“Yes, please.” Clarke pressed her hand against Bellamy’s shoulder, pushing him away. “Hurry up and feed me before I waste away.” He laughed, standing up. He pulled his boxers on and then bent over for the condom. He moved out of the living room, throwing one last look over his shoulder at her. She waved lazily from where she was stretched out on his couch, still completely naked with her legs spread open.

After a few minutes, she got cold, standing up and reaching for his shirt and her underwear. She pulled both on, before grabbing the blanket. It was damp from their sweat and the sex, so she balled it up, bringing it with her as she left the living room in search for him. She heard the sizzle of cheese and butter in a pan, and she smiled at the smell of the sandwich coming from a door to the right of the front hall. She walked into the kitchen, freezing at the sight of his bare back as he reached into a cabinet to grab plates. She watched the way the muscles of his back shifted and rippled, making her swallow. He placed the plates on the countertop to the right of the stove. She dropped the blanket to the floor, unsure what he wanted to do with it, and she made her way over to him.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her lips to his back, and she heard his soft hum. He laid one hand over hers, as he flipped the sandwiches in the pan, using the spatula to press the bread into the pan. He untangled one of her hands from the other, lifting it to press gentle kisses against the pads of her fingers. “This smells amazing.” She said into his back before pulling free from him. She walked to his left, jumping up onto the counter beside the stove. He looked her up and down, taking in the sight of her in his shirt. “I hope you don’t mind…” He stepped away from the pan, slipping into the space between her legs, kissing her lightly.

“I don’t mind.” Bellamy told Clarke as he pulled back. “These look about done.” He turned off the pan, sliding a sandwich onto a plate, using the spatula to cut it in half. He handed the plate to her before doing the same with the other sandwich. “You want to eat up there, or would you like to move to the table?” He jerked his head to the archway that separated the small kitchen with the dining room.

“Mmm, only if you promise to act out what you were describing to me earlier.”

“The part where I spread you open on my table and feast on you as if you were my last meal?” She bit her bottom lip, nodding at him. “Done. You can be my dessert.” She shuddered at the prospect, letting him take her plate so that she could hop off the counter. She followed him into the dining room where they quickly ate their sandwiches before he had her on her back on the table, hand curling into his hair, as he sucked her clit into his mouth, three fingers driving into her with a bruising force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five pages of pure smut. You’re welcome!
> 
> Let me know what you think of this fic so far?! Please and thank you!


	3. Inspiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Clarke and Bellamy experience some inspiration the morning after their night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck. Yeah…that’s all.
> 
> Lyrics featured in this chapter:  
> XO – Fall Out Boy  
> Wildest Dreams – Taylor Swift

Bellamy woke up with a crick in his neck. He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, eyes still firmly clamped shut. He had the sex blanket, as Annie had referred to it as, wrapped around his waist, completely nude aside from the blanket. He was stretched out on the couch, and his back was killing him, as was his neck. Well, it was his fault that he and Annie had moved into the living room again, following their dinner and _his dessert_ in the dining room. When he’d fallen asleep last night, there was the lithe body of a beautiful blonde on top of him, but the familiar weight of her body was no longer there, and he felt a little cold. He jerked when he felt something wet splatter on her face. His eyes opened, and he saw his sister leaning over his face, holding a squirt bottle in her hand.

“What the fuck are you doing? Shit, O, _stop_!” He yelled, reaching out to smack her hand away as she began squirting him again with the bottle.

“I’m squirting you in the face with water like you’re supposed to do with a bad dog to teach them to not shit on the floor or to chew your shoes.” He flipped her off, grabbing the blanket to make sure that his dick was covered as he sat up. “You’re buck fucking naked on _our couch_ , Bell! What the fuck is wrong with you?” In her other hand was the kitchen tongs. She held them up, showing him a pair of white underwear that was pinched in the tongs’ teeth. “Fuck you.” He laughed when she jerked her arm, releasing the tongs so that the underwear flew in his face.

He grabbed the panties after they fell in his lap. Annie might have jumped ship before he woke up, but she left behind a present for him. “Thanks, sis. I’m sure that she’s looking for these.”

“You’re a pig. She’s not looking for her underwear. If a girl wants to come back to a hookup’s for something she’s left behind, she leaves behind a piece of jewelry or her phone or something that she’d actually want back. Underwear is dime a dozen, okay? You’re an idiot if you think she’s coming back. She’s _not_. If you didn’t get the tramp’s number before you fucked her, then you’re not seeing her again.”

Bellamy tightened his jaw, settling a level glare at his sister. Octavia scoffed, dropping the tongs on the floor, along with the squirt bottle. “I’m allowed to hook up with girls in my own house, O.” He said, flatly.

“Yeah, in your bedroom, like a normal person.”

“You know I don’t—” He shook his head, wrapping the blanket more firmly around his waist. He stood up and then bent over to grab his clothes from the floor, the white underwear still trapped in his hand. “I’m going to go shower.”

“Clean up the living room when you’re done. It stinks of sex in here.” Octavia stormed off, throwing him a look over her shoulder. “And go buy some new fucking tongs and a throw blanket. I don’t want either of those near me again.” He blew out a breath, watching her disappear from the living room.

He cursed silently under his breath, one arm holding a pile of clothing against his chest, the other gripping the blanket at his waist. He stared at the ground, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he tried to swallow the irritation bubbling in his chest. He blew out a breath, squeezing the blanket tighter. A part of him had hoped that she’d be there when he woke up, because last night had gone well beyond a drunken one-night-stand with some groupie at the bar. Instead, the kisses felt different from the kisses he’d shared with random girls. The moment he got her into his house, he didn’t know what to do with her, because it all seemed so different from everyone before.

But, Octavia was right. This wasn’t any different from every other hookup he has had. It was for the better, really. He didn’t want anything different. He steeled himself against the weird feeling in his gut over her disappearing after the night before and stalked out of the living room. He needed to take a shower.

While he was in the shower, lyrics flow through his mind. He began humming a rhythm under his breath as he massages shampoo into his dark locks. “ _I comb the crowd and pick you out / my mouth moves too fast for you to figure it out / it starts eyes closed to fingers crossed / to ‘I swear,’ I say / to ‘I swear,’ I say_.” He grinned as more lyrics fill his mind. The one night stand might have left him with an unfamiliar feeling, but it definitely inspired a pretty dope song. After he finished the shower, he channeled the previous night’s events, along with the numerous other one-night-stands he has had over the years into the song. The sound of the pen scratching against the paper was drowned out by his voice as he sang softly, attempting to find the right words for the song. It was the quickest that he’d ever written a song in his life. Too bad he didn’t have anything of Annie’s aside from a pair of her panties, her name, and a good memory.

* * *

 

Clarke stumbled through the front door of her house, in last night’s dress, with her hair tied up in a messy bun with the hair tie she found in the bottom of her clutch, the sweater thrown over her arm. “Where were you?” Raven asked as she wandered out of the kitchen, a bowl of cereal in her hands. Clarke opened her mouth, but Raven kept going, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “Why the fuff are you wafing thaf?” She asked around the colorful clump she was chomping on as she headed towards the couch in the living room.

Clarke followed Raven into the living room, dropping her clutch and sweater on the floor by the couch. She sat down, bending over to begin removing her shoes. “I did something stupid.” She wiggled the toes of her right foot after it was released from her shoe. She moved on to the left shoe.

“Waff you talkin’ ‘bout?” Raven asked around another spoonful as she shoveled it into her mouth, tucking her legs up onto the couch.

“I hooked up with someone last night—someone I shouldn’t have slept with.” Clarke sighed, releasing her other foot. She shook it out for a moment before pulling both of her feet up to wrap her arms around her legs. She leaned her chin onto one of her knees.

“Was it Lexa?” Raven abandoned the bowl of cereal to the end table beside her.

Clarke’s eyes widened in surprise. “No! Why would---was she not here last night?” It’s not like she was jealous or anything; Lexa could sleep with anyone that she wanted, but it was still pretty surprising to hear about her…whatever the fuck Lexa could be categorized as at the moment…that Lexa had spent the night with someone random.

“She and I saw your note at the same time, and she got her usual sourpuss. She snapped at me that she was going out, and when I asked her where and with who, she told me she was allowed to go out and asked if I was her guard dog.” Raven rolled her eyes. “You know how she gets when you’re both single, and she decides that it is time for you guys to be back on. She gets super irritated by the idea of you dating someone else, and then you dump that person. You two screw around for a little while, and then she decides you’re better off as friends again. Before you know it, she’s dating someone new.”

Raven’s summarization of hers and Lexa’s rollercoaster of a relationship was pretty accurate in Clarke’s opinion. Lexa was a serial monogamist, but she had serious commitment and trust issues, so her relationships tended to fizzle out rather quickly. The only serious relationships she’d had since she began dating had been with Clarke the first time they’d date (which had been for just shy of six months) and her high school sweetheart, Costia, who died tragically young from a brain aneurysm the summer after they graduated from high school. She and Costia had been together for two and a half years—most of their high school education—so, it was understandable that she had trouble getting back into the dating scene again until she met Clarke in their sophomore year of college.

Lexa had thrown herself into the relationship with Clarke, and they were practically living at each other’s apartments two weeks into their relationship. Then, they started the band, and then five months later, they were breaking up but agreeing to be friends and bandmates. Over the last few years, they’d been on and off every few months, except when Clarke tried her hand at a serious relationship or two. Lexa, on the other hand, was never single for longer than a minute, but she never stayed with her girlfriends for longer than a month.

“Frankly, I don’t give a fuck about what Lexa’s doing—or, to be more accurate, _who_ Lexa’s doing. I want to know about _you_. So, spill.” Raven’s voice snapped Clarke out of her introspection and back to the conversation at hand.

“Right, um, I went to this tiny dive bar near Venice Beach.”

“Say what? You slummed in Venice? What the hell, Clarke! You can’t go places like that alone.”

“Venice Beach isn’t as bad as it used to be, and it’s not like it was Inglewood. There are some pretty nasty neighborhoods everywhere.” Clarke sniffed, looking away from Raven. She wasn’t sure why she was defending Bellamy’s neighborhood and home. While it wasn’t the nicest or the biggest (or anything like the four-bedroom that she was renting with her friends), the small house was cute, well-kept, clean, and obviously well-lived in. It felt like a home, and Clarke had felt one hundred percent safe there—and with Bellamy.

“ _Clarke_.” Raven cut off her tirade with an eye roll. Clarke rubbed a hand at the smudged makeup under her eyes, wincing at the black smears that were left behind on her palm. Raven looked her up and down, and Clarke’s head began to pound. She didn’t have a hangover, but it was starting to feel like she was suffering from a _regret_ hangover. “You wore that to a dive bar in Venice?”

“I was checking out the _BotB_ site last night,” referring to the _Battle of the Band_ ’s website. There’s a new band this year—it’s their first year. It’s all male.”

“You didn’t! You boned a guy from the band? Babe, I’m so proud!”

“The lead singer. It was an accident.”

“An accident? How in the hell do you fuck someone on accident? I mean, aside from the whole being drunk or drugged or whatever. You can't just fall into his lap and say whoopsies, and you’re suddenly fucking.”

There were reasons why Clarke loved Raven, and her dry sense of humor and sarcasm were usually some of her favorites. Except right now. Because she was on the receiving end of that dry sense of humor and sarcasm. She tightened her jaw, and her eyelids hooded her eyes, until they were only small slits that she could see out of, lips slightly pursed. She leveled her unamused gaze on her friend, and Raven just scoffed, reaching for her bowl of soggy _Fruity Pebbles_ , shoveling a heaping spoonful into her mouth.

“I was just going to get some recon on them. You know…get a feel for the band, learn their sound and style. Maybe make friends with the nerdy keyboardist to get an inside look at what they’re plan was for _BotB_.” She sighed, letting her head fall back on the back of the couch, a pout slipping onto her lips. “But the lead singer…ugh!” She whined, her bottom lip jutting out as she thought about how weak-willed she was the night before. Well, that and buzzed on girly pink drinks that tasted as artificial as she felt. Annie Griffin, the cute, sorority-wannabee, art school girl felt so…so… _ugh_. Vapid. Vain. Empty. Like a walking, talking bobble-head with no brains. Clarke Griffin was different. Clarke was mysterious, emotional, strong, independent, fierce, vibrant, colorful, headstrong, violent, ambitious—and the list went on. Annie was bland and boring and stupid. She hated being Annie. She was a _princess_ , just like Bellamy had called her. Sure, he’d meant it as an endearment, but Clarke knew it for the insult that it was. Annie was a princess, and Clarke hated that. She didn’t want to be Annie.

“So, did you get any recon done?”

“He’s great with his fingers, even better with his tongue, and he really knows how to work those hips.” Raven let out a belly laugh, almost choking on the milk she was drinking from her bowl. She returned the now empty bowl to the end table and shook her head, studying her best friend.

“Damn, girl! You’re such a slut.” She winked, making Clarke sigh. “Why are you dressed like this, though? Isn’t this from your Georgetown graduation?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s too small.” Clarke shifted, dropping one of her legs to the side as she adjusted the gathered material at her bust.

“Whoa! I just saw your lady-bits! Did you really go without panties? Wearing that?” She grimaced, dropping the other leg to squeeze her thighs together.

“I couldn’t find them.” She mumbled, and Raven’s lips puckered.

“Sorry…what was that? I couldn’t understand you.” Clarke glared at her.

“You heard me just fine. I couldn’t find them in the dark when I was attempting dress quickly and quietly and get out of the door of his house without him waking up.”

“This just gets better and better.” Raven clapped.

“Anyways, I told him that my name was Annie, and I wore this, because apparently Annie is an empty-headed, high-society girl who drinks Sea Breezes that my mother was trying to mold me into before I died my golden locks purple, pink, or blue and started wearing motorcycle boots and wearing faux-leather and heavy eye makeup in my rock band.” She sighed. “And, I was trying to hook the nerdy keyboardist, because he looks like the type who didn’t screw and bail like the rest of the single band members.”

“Ah, but you got to the bar and wound up landing the hump-and-dumb lead singer.” Raven shook her head. “Well, at least he knows you as Annie, because this could really screw us if anyone figured out who you were and what you were doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Um, you doing recon about a competitor and lying about your identity could be seen as cheating.”

“Shit! I didn’t even think about that!”

“Yeah, well, it could’ve been a real shit storm. No one recognized you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head, trying to remember if any of the patrons noticed her. “Finn was there.”

“What?! He didn’t tell me he was in L.A. That douche!” Clarke sniffed at the fact that Raven was still talking to their cheating ex-boyfriend. She didn’t understand why Raven couldn’t cut ties with him, but he was _family_ to Raven, so Finn, unfortunately, was a part of their lives. She just wished that Finn realize that Raven and Clarke weren’t a packaged deal when it comes to him.

“He was there alright, kept doing his usual thing, trying to apologize and get me to take him back.” She used to feel bad about telling things like that to Raven, because she was the person that he’d left Raven for. Raven, on the other hand, appeared to be over all of that crap. Besides, she’d been pretty seriously dating a guy named Kyle Wick, who was in the same engineering graduate program as she was. Raven was pursuing mechanical engineering, whereas Wick was pursuing a chemical engineering degree. Like Clarke’s dad. She frowned, because thinking of her dad always reminded her of his untimely death and the stress of her old home life—of having to be the perfect daughter for her perfect parents. “He agreed to call me Annie, though, when he was there. I don’t think he’ll fuck things up for me, though.”

“It’s been years. You’d think he’d get the fuck over you by now. We’ve both moved on. Why can’t he?” Raven shook her head. “I’ll have to fucking talk to him. That and kick his ass for coming to L.A. and not fucking tell me.”

Clarke sighed, standing up, tugging on the hem of her dress. “I’m gonna get a shower.”

“You do that. I’m scared I might get an STD just from sharing a couch with you.” Clarke glared at Raven, shooting her the middle finger as she stormed out of the living room.

“Bitch!” Clarke called out to her. She ignored the laugh that came from the living room. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom (the master, because she paid the most rent), and stripped the dress off. Her bedroom had an en suite bathroom, so she made her way into it, naked, turning on the water, letting it flow for a moment while the water heated up.

After climbing under the spray, eyes closed as she washed away the residue of makeup, sweat, and sex, she couldn’t help but get flashbacks of the handsome man she’d gone to bed with (well, sort of…just not technically in a bed) the night before. She remembered his lazy smirk, the way his hands held her against his body as they danced in his front hall, his laughter as he destroyed her at _Mario Party_ , and the bruising force he kissed her with—as if he was trying to put all of himself into the kiss. She remembered the feeling of fingertips brushing across her skin, the hard planes of his chest and back against her body, the way he filled her so completely. “ _He’s so tall and handsome as hell / he’s so bad, but he does it so well / I can see it end as it begins_.” She sang softly as she rubbed her loofah against her stomach, white bubbles left behind as she moved the loofah up to brush along her breasts.

* * *

 

Bellamy almost has a heart attack when he’s walking by a coffee shop, and he sees _her_. Annie. Her soft blonde curls are pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head. She’s dressed in a pair of high-waisted jean shorts, that barely cover a few more inches of her thighs than is considered indecent, and one of those loose, crop-top t-shirts, hanging off of her right shoulder, revealing a bright pink bra strap. On her feet are a pair of black flip flops, and a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses are sitting on her nose. She was sitting in one of the window seats, her back facing the wall of the coffee shop, her profile to him. She stared at a spiral-bound notebook on the table in front of her, her coffee in one of those brought-from-home-to-go containers—blue with white lettering that said _Princess_ with a yellow crown perched on the top of the capital _P_. It made him smile, because he knew that she was a princess—beautiful, enthralling, ethereal. She has a pencil in her hand—thicker than the traditional no. 2 pencil.

He stopped outside of the coffee shop, watching her as she chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, head cocked to the side. She twitched her nose before her pencil began dancing over the page, filling it in more completely. From his vantage point, he can’t see what she’s doing—writing, drawing, editing—but she was so intent on whatever she was working on that she didn’t notice the stares of the guy behind the counter of the shop. Or the man sitting in the table opposite her. Or the petite brunette with the severe expression on her face who licked her lips like she was a lioness hunting her prey, waiting for her drink to be finished by another barista. The moment the drink was placed in her hand, the brunette stalked over to the table that Annie was seated at. She dropped into the chair opposite Annie, who looked up and gave her a soft smile. The brunette said something—something he can’t hear through the window—before she stood up once more, leaning over to press a kiss to Annie’s cheek before walking out of the coffee shop. She brushed past him on her way down the street, tossing a quick glance his way before she disappears from his line of sight. The brunette was someone that Annie knew, and it was clear that she had feelings for Annie, but he couldn’t tell how those feelings were reciprocated back. Were they friends? Were they lovers? It was clear that they were close.

Bellamy turned his eyes back to the window before him, and he saw that the Annie’s gaze had returned to her notebook, and she was oblivious to the man gathering the courage to go speak to her. Bellamy blanched at the sudden wave of possessiveness that flashed through him, and he took a couple of sobering breaths before he decided to throw caution to the wind. Octavia was always telling him that it was time for him to try his hand at something a little more serious than one-night-stands. “You’re almost thirty, Bellamy. It is time for you to settle down. Find a nice girl, date her for a while. The bachelor lifestyle just isn’t cool anymore.” He’d disagreed with his sister about that, but as he studied Annie through the window of the coffee shop, he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps his sister was sort of right.

Annie was unlike any other girl he’d bedded. He felt different that night with her; a week had passed, and she was still on his mind. He couldn’t seem to forget the petite, curvy brunette with sea blue eyes, soft, full lips, golden hair, and angelic voice. He’d had _fun_ with her that night—beyond the traditional ‘fun’ that came with good sex. They’d laughed, joked, flirted. It was light, easy, _fun_. He wanted to experience more of that, so perhaps Octavia was right. It was fate that Annie seemed to show up in his life again today. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he headed to the door of the coffee shop.

* * *

 

Clarke was so engrossed in her sketch, she didn’t realize that someone was calling her name, trying to get her attention. To be fair, after she had a mini-heart attack after someone’s finger stroked across her bare shoulder, and she looked up to find the man looming over her had a familiar set of chocolate eyes, tanned skin, unruly inky curls, and a lazy smirk on his face—a man who she’d slept with only the week before in the hopes of getting some information about his band—she’d realized that he’d been saying _Annie_ , not _Clarke_ , which explained her lack of realization that he’d been trying to get her to notice him. She felt her cheeks burn, and she knew that the blush likely didn’t stop at the apples of her cheek. She could feel the flush all of the way to her chest, and she knew she likely had red blotchy skin.

“Um, Bellamy, hi.”

“I called your name like five times, but you didn’t even look up.” He laughed, pointing to the chair opposite her. “May I?” She didn’t trust her voice right then, only nodding her head to show her agreement. He sat down in the chair that Lexa had so recently vacated, studying her with that same lazy smirk still planted on his lips. She gave him a tight smile back, quickly shutting her sketchbook and placing the graphite pencil onto the tabletop beside it. She did a mental assessment of what she’d decided to wear that morning, and she settled for the fact that her current outfit wasn’t too out of place for the persona that was _Annie Griffin_.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t…it’s just that when I start sketching, I have a tendency to get so absorbed in it that I don’t really notice what is going on around me.” She was only slightly fibbing, but he seemed to accept her answer, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

“What were you sketching? May I see it?” She frowned, because she’d been sketching an idea for a new album cover, featuring the four girls in front of a brick wall, a can of spray paint in her left hand, with _Girls, Girls, Girls_ freshly spray-painted onto the wall, along with _tonDC_ slightly smaller and in less bold lettering below it. She’d drawn each of them to be sporting a tank top or t-shirt with the images of their previous album covers on them. Obviously, she couldn’t show Bellamy that image.

“Um,” she shook her head, laying a hand on top of her sketchbook. “It’s not done yet…and I get weird about sharing my artwork when it isn’t ready.” His eyes narrowed slightly, and he sat back in the chair again, nodding his head.

“Right, um, sure, makes sense.” He ran a hand through the unruly mop that was his hair, the muscles of his arm bulging and releasing as he slid his fingers through his hair. She was mesmerized by it— _him_. “This is awkward, isn’t it? Like, you’re thinking why the hell is the guy I fucked that one time a week ago now sitting down in front of me at _Starbucks_.” She winced at his description of their previous interaction.

“No, it’s not…okay, yeah, it’s a little awkward, but it’s just because that wasn’t me.” That was the understatement of the century. Clarke had her fair share of one-night-stands, but lying about who she was and her underhanded attempts to find out more about the band in order to win a competition was definitely _new_.

“Yeah, I remember you saying that you’re not exactly the one-night-stand type.” He chuckled quietly, looking down at his lap as he shifted lower in the chair. His legs were spread wide, his knees occasionally brushing hers whenever either one of them would shift in their chairs. “I don’t mean to make this awkward, but I saw you, and I thought I’d stop in for a quick hello.”

“I’m glad you did, Bellamy. It was good to see you.”

“It was good to see you, too.” Bellamy stood up, giving Clarke a small wave. She watched him as he turned away from her, only to make it two steps before he froze. He turned back, and she swallowed hard, suddenly extremely nervous. “Listen, I…um…I’d like to see you again.” Her eyes widened in surprise, because she wasn’t expecting that. When she’d snuck out of his house a half an hour after he’d passed out after the latest round of their coupling, she’d never expected there to be a repeat performance. But, here he was now, standing in front of her with a sheepish expression on his face, and he was asking her to see him again.

“Um…” She blushed, and she felt like an idiot school girl. “Like on a date or just to—” She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before he interjected.

“A date. Of course. I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

She couldn’t help the smile that inched its way onto her face. He was decidedly adorable when he was awkward and seemed unsure of himself. It was obvious that he didn’t really do this kind of thing often, just like he’d been after they’d gone back to his home the week before. She knew it was stupid to date him—for a wide variety of reasons. Most notably, it’d been exhausted to pretend to be Annie for a few hours, let alone as long as they dated before _BotB_ was. But, if she did date him, then she’d be one step closer to figuring out what kind of set list that _the Rebels_ were going to use in the competition. It was that thought that sealed her fate. She had to keep her plan going. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” He brightened, giving her a shy smile. He grabbed one of the napkins sitting on her table, along with her graphite pencil. He quickly scrawled out his phone number before handing her another napkin and the pencil. “Here’s my number. Can I get yours?” She nodded her head, quickly writing down her own set of ten-digits. She traced her fingers over his loopy writing, trying her best to not smudge the pencil. “Cool.” He grinned at her. “How about tonight?”

“What?” Clarke jumped, surprised that he was trying to finalize plans right then and there.

“Dinner, tonight. You and me. There’s a great Chinese place that I want to take you to. It’s, um, well, it’s owned by my band mate’s parents.” The keyboardist, she guessed, which made her feel like shit, because she’d originally tried to go after the Asian man instead.

“That sounds great. Seven? You could text me the address.”

“Or I could pick you up?” She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he laughed quietly, holding up his hands. “Or I could meet you there.”

“Yeah, that’ll be great.” She nodded her head, and he pocketed the napkin with her phone number on it.

“It was great running into you, Annie. I’m looking forward to tonight.” She frowned after he turned his back on her. She wanted to stop him, to tell him the truth, to share her true identity with him, but he was already gone, lost amongst the sea of people walking past the coffee shop.

“Fuck…” she muttered softly before opening her sketchbook to another empty page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally deleted my tumblr the other day, so I basically have to start all over again, which sucks. Royally.
> 
> Anyways, you can find me here if you want to chat! I mostly reblog the talents of other people, lol, but I'd love to interact with you all.
> 
> I'll come back and re-edit this to make a tiny link and all of that jazz later, but I'm tired now.
> 
> http://bittyab18.tumblr.com


	4. Good Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy have their second date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I got a new job. And then I moved. And I decided a little smut was the perfect way to get back into the swing of writing. This one is short and sweet. Or, well, short and smut-tastic. Enjoy!

Clarke fell to the side, face planting into a throw pillow that was tossed haphazardly to her left. She let out a loud sigh, or maybe it was a moan, as she flexed her toes. Her legs twitched as she regained feeling in her extremities. “Fuck, that was a great second date, huh?” A male voice rumbled in her ear as a slick body crowded against her frame, crushing her more firmly into the couch.

“Definitely going down in the record books.” She laughed, turning her head to allow him access to her lips. He planted a dirty kiss to her mouth, one that tasted faintly like her cunt, spit, and sweat, with just a hint of lo mein from their dinner earlier.

“Glad to hear it.” He said, breaking the kiss. “You’re fucking fantastic, babe. Your cunt tastes so sweet.” He breathed against her ear, tongue flicking along the outer edge of her ear. “Like the juiciest peach. I could live between your thighs.”

“Oh, really? I’m not complaining.” Clarke gasped out as his fingers stroked down her spine to cup her ass. “You know, if you wanted to go again.” She squeaked when his fingers slipped between her ass cheeks and slid lower to stroke her still tingling sex.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He groaned. “I’m going to have you again. And again. And again.” He kissed his way down her spine, biting the fleshy swell of her left ass cheek. She groaned, settling her weight onto her knees, lifting her waist up so that he mouth was level with her sex. She moaned at the first flick of his tongue against the outer folds of her cunt. She leaned her weight forward, pressing her forehead into the pillow. Her fingers gripped the fabric of the couch as his tongue slipped in deeper, plunging as far inside of her as he could get it.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” She chanted over and over, rocking back against his mouth as his hands gripped her hips. He squeezed her hips lightly before he held her in place, limiting her ability to move. She was just along for the ride as he fucked her with his tongue. Sometimes, it was deep inside of her. Other times it was painting the folds of her sex. Other times, he was sucking her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it brutally. She felt herself shaking, her legs twitching. She exploded over the edge, collapsing under the weight of her orgasm, and she heard his laugh as he followed, sucking and biting at her thighs and the curve of her ass. She reached back and gripped his hair in her fist. He bit hard on her ass, sucking the flesh into his mouth, and she fisted his hair tighter as she cried out against the pillow. She was going to have a massive hickey on her ass cheek. He released her skin with a pop as his lips broke the suction he had on his ass.

“So good, princess.” He told her. “I could go again.”

“Mm, as much as I love your mouth and fingers, I need your dick.” Clarke forced him back enough to turn over, staring up at his deep brown eyes. His fingers traced her chin and cheeks, his eyes tracing over her face.

“Hi, beautiful.” He whispered.

“Hi, nerd.” She rolled her eyes, reaching down to rub his dick through his jeans. She flicked the button out of the way, fingers playing with the zipper trapping his erection beneath the layer of denim. She casually pulled it down, running her fingertips through the opening of his boxers to feel the heat of him. He grunted, hips jerking at her light touch. “Now fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command, Princess.” His smirk was dirty, and his voice was cheeky. She opened her mouth to respond, but the next thing she knew, he was jerking against her, his dick sliding deep inside of her. The zipper of his jeans was scratching against her hips as he thrust inside. She whimpered at the heat of his body against hers, cloth touching skin. He was fully clothed, but she was completely naked, having had her dress and panties torn from her body the second they’d arrived at his house. He slid his hips back before slamming back into her, making her whimper again. “Just a few more, and then I gotta get a condom. How do you want ‘em? Hard and deep?” He punctuated the words with a hard thrust that filled her almost completely. She cried out. “Do you want it soft and shallow?” He slid out and gave a shallow thrust that left her craving more—the feeling of his body against hers, the weight of his cock deep inside of her. She grabbed his shoulders.

“Bellamy,” she moaned as he gave another hard, deep thrust. “Fuck, just like that…” He grinned, giving her a third hard thrust before he pulled out completely. She whimpered at the loss of his weight, reaching out to grab the loosened waist of his jeans. He was breathing heavily, one hand yanking his t-shirt up while the other was digging in his back pocket to grab his wallet.

Clarke pulled Bellamy’s pants down the second she saw his wallet, making him laugh as he stumbled from the force of her pull.

“Relax, Princess.” He let go of his shirt to catch himself on the back of the couch before he fell on top of her. She returned his grin as she continued to divest him of his pants. When they were at his ankles, her hands were at his waist once more, yanking the boxers down just as roughly, making him swear under his breath when her right hand grasped his cock in her hand the moment it was completely exposed. She leaned forward, wrapping her lips around its tip. His hand tangled in her hair, the wallet landing on the couch beside her body. “Fuck, yes, baby. Suck my cock.”

Clarke hallowed her cheeks as she sucked hard on his tip. She raised her eyes to look up at him, and she saw that he was staring down at her. His jaw was tensed, the tendons in his neck protruding, and he was breathing heavily as he held his hips still. She closed her eyes as she sucked him deeper into her mouth, getting as much of him inside of her as she could. Her hand gripped the base of his dick, twisting lightly as she bobbed her head up and down on his dick. “Fucking hell.” He fisted her hair more tightly before he began yanking her head away from him. “I need to be inside of your, Annie.” She released him with a pop, looking down as she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Guilt overwhelmed her as _Annie_ reverberated in her head.

She focused on getting the boxers the rest of the way off of his body and searching through his wallet for a condom while he pulled the shirt over his head. He fell on top of her when she held up the condom. His hand covered hers as he ground his hard dick against her sex, making her moan. He raised the condom to his mouth, tearing it open with his teeth. She stole the condom back from him, reaching between them to slide it on him before giving it a few tester tugs to make sure it was in place. “Fuck me. Hard. Deep. Fast.” She told him as she guided his dick into her sex. “ _Ohmygod_!” Her eyes fell closed as he stretched her open once more. He bottomed out inside of her, resting all of his weight against her body, and she was overwhelmed by his scent, his warmth, his weight, _him_.

“Gonna fuck you good, baby.” He raised his weight off of her, using the top of the couch and the cushion beneath her to support his weight as he fucked into her, doing just as she asked: hard, deep, and fast.

It was a bruising pace, one that Clarke could barely keep up with. She was just along with the ride, feeling her nails digging into Bellamy’s back as he pounded into her. She cried out every time he bottomed out and whimpered every time he left her nearly completely empty except for his tip. She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, focusing on the intoxicating feeling that came with a good fuck. Eventually, she heard herself chanting that she needed _more_ , and it was her own hand that snuck between them to rub frantically at her clit.

“Oh, god, yes, Bellamy!” She squealed when she fell over the edge. His thrusts became erratic and even more frantic than before as he followed her into ecstasy. He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily into her neck. She whimpered under the weight of him, her hands finding his hair as she guided his face from her neck. Her lips found his, and she kissed him fiercely, sucking on his tongue as aggressively as she’d sucked his cock ten minutes before.

When air became a problem, she broke the kiss, breathing heavily against his mouth. “So good, babe.” He kissed her once more before he pulled away, making her hiss as he pulled out.

“I think your sister my kill you,” she told him as stood up. His hands froze part of the way through removing the condom to shoot her a confused look. His brow was furrowed, his jaw tensed.

“Don’t talk about my sister when I’ve got my dick in my hand.” He deadpanned, removing the condom the rest of the way. “But, I’ll bite. Why?”

“We weren’t on the sex blanket.” She pointed to the blanket that was bunched on the floor. He’d sat on it while she rode his face the first time.

“Fuck. I’ll Google how to get your cum out of couch cushions later.” She laughed, standing up to wrap her arms around his neck. He wrapped one arm around her waist, returning her sloppy, dirty kiss, his other hand holding the used condom off to the side.

Clarke broke the kiss and took a step back. “I need a shower.” She bit her lip as she backed away from the couch.

“Let’s go.” He wrapped an arm around her waist when he caught up to her, dragging her backwards as she gripped his shoulders tightly to keep standing.

“I’m gonna fall.” She slapped his shoulder as she stumbled, and he smirked, pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll catch you.” He whispered in her ear, and it made her stomach twitch as she thought of the connotations that could come from a statement like that. If she wasn’t pretending to be _Annie_. If he weren’t Bellamy Blake of _The Rebels_. She pulled away from him, giving him a tense smile as she faced the correct way. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her face to his bare back.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

 

Clarke walked into the house, her hair a knotted mess on top of her head, her bra hanging haphazardly out of her oversized purse. Her dress was still unzipped, and she was sporting the pair of flip-flops that she always left in her car, whereas her heels were buried at the base of her purse. She felt like a mess. She looked like a mess. She was a mess.

“Where the hell were you?” She jumped, and she hastily pulled the sunglasses off her face. She winced as she shoved the sunglasses (and her bra) into her bag.

“Hi, Lexa.” She sniffed, nodding her head. “I, uh, spent the night at, uh, a…friend’s?”

“What friend?” Lexa crossed her arms, a single eyebrow rising as she leveled a blank expression at Clarke. Clarke swallowed. “I know all of your friends.”

“A new friend. Excuse me. I’m gonna go shower. I’m home later than I planned.” She started to pass by Lexa, freezing when she heard the quiet snort.

“We’ve got practice in the morning.” Lexa stormed off, and Clarke let out a quiet sigh as she leaned against the wall for a moment. She pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Fuck.” She muttered, rushing up the stairs to shower. She made her way into her room, dropping the bag on her bed, and headed in the direction of her en suite bathroom. She froze when she heard her phone chirp inside her bag. She turned back, pulling it out to read the text that had just come through.

**_From: bellamy  
_ ** **_1:13 am  
_ ** _**when can I see u again** _

“Where were you?” This time, it was Raven who was questioning her whereabouts. She looked up from her phone to see her best friend leaning against her doorframe. “Well, you look thoroughly fucked.” Raven stepped completely into her room, shutting the door behind her. She crossed her arms as she made her way over to Clarke’s bed. Her eyes fell on Clarke’s phone, and a giant frown settled on her face. “Bellamy? As in Bellamy from _The Rebels_?”

“I ran into him. Yesterday. When I met Lexa for coffee on her lunch break.” Clarke dropped the phone on the bed and sat down, burying her face in her hands.

“So?” The bed dipped as Raven sat down beside her. Clarke raised her head and threw her arms up, hands akimbo.

“He came up to me while I was sketching. We talked. He asked me on a date.” She waved at the air, trying to act like it was no big deal.

“He. Asked. You. On. A. Date.” Raven repeated. Clarke rolled her eyes, shrugging her shoulders.

“Yeah. He said he wanted to see me again. Invited me to dinner. Dinner turned into a getting eaten out in the backseat of his SUV. That turned into me following him back to his in my car. Us fucking on his couch again. And then in his shower. Fuck, it’s so good, Ray, I dunno…I just…I can’t say no when I’m around him.” She dropped her face in her hands again. “It’s just sex, right?” She mumbled into her hands.

“Yeah, it’s just sex. Just…be careful, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt. And I sure as hell don’t want us to get screwed over with the _BoB_.”

“Lexa caught me coming in.” Clarke said after a few minutes. She was pissed that I was out with someone.”

“Of course she was. She’s Lexa.” Raven sighed, wrapping an arm around Clarke’s shoulders. Clarke rested her head on Raven’s shoulder, eyes falling shut. “You know how I feel about this.”

“Raven,” she raised her head to look at her friend. “Stop.”

“I’m not saying anything.” Clarke rolled her eyes, returning her head to Raven’s shoulder. “What did you say to Lexa?”

“I was at a friend’s.” Raven snorted.

“You know, I can’t decide if Lexa would be proud of you for doing your espionage thing or if she would gut you for potentially fucking up our chances at winning the _BoB_.”

“Probably both. She and Anya are all about the whole, ‘all is fair in love and war’ thing.” Clarke laughed. “I can hear Anya now: ‘don’t get caught or else.’ What ‘else’ means, you’ll never know, but you can be damn sure it is something bad.”

“Yeah, she’d say something like that. Go shower. You smell like the scene of a porno.”

“Fuck off, Ray.” Clarke laughed, but she stood up. “See you in the morning.”

“Love you, slut.”

“Love you, too, bitch.” Raven left Clarke’s room, and she sat on her bed in silence for a few minutes before her phone chirped again with an incoming text.

 **_From: Bellamy  
_ ** **_1:24 am  
_ ** _I’ve got a show 2morrow at the cave  
_ _plz come need 2 c u again_

 **_To: bellamy  
_ ** **_1:25 am  
_ ** _I’ll be there. Please type like an adult, though. I fuck adults._

**_From: bellamy  
_ ** _1:25 am  
_ _feisty. I like it (smiling purple devil emoji)_


End file.
